


Playing the Game

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Episode Related, Gap Filler, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-15
Updated: 2004-05-15
Packaged: 2018-12-27 02:04:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12071418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Gap filler for episodes 304 and 305.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Brian

When I heard the knock on the loft door I knew it was him. Not just because I always know when it’s him, but because less than two minutes ago Deb called to let me know that Horvath and Justin had taken care of my little “problem.” She was vague on the phone with me, said I’d see Justin soon enough and I could ask him myself. So when I heard the knock on the door I knew that soon enough was now.

I slide it open and scan him from head to toe before saying ‘hey.’ He responds in kind and takes a step back. As always, we could have an entire conversation using body language alone. I follow his lead and move out into his space in the hall so he doesn’t have to come in to mine. If the loft floods his mind with memories half as real and potent as mine, I completely understand why he would never want to come inside - there are times when I feel the same way.

He pulls my cowry shell bracelet from his pocket and dangles it in the space between us. “I believe this belongs to you,” he says knowingly. I snatch it from his hand quickly, but playfully. Of course it belongs to me you twat. How many times did you moan my name as it scratched lines all over your body during an amazing fuck? Too many times to count, I’d say. This bracelet has marked you as many times as I have. I could let the bracelet tell our history, it would do a better job than we would.

It was there that night on Liberty Avenue when I chose you. It was there the first time you ever let a man touch you. It was there when Gus was born. It was there when you came for me over and over and over until we both passed out from sheer exhaustion. It was there the next day when you refused to let me walk away. It was there for all of the million moments I gave an inch, letting you deeper inside my secret world. It was there when we danced. It was there when you almost died. It was there when you took over my loft and my life. It was there when I fell in…lust. It was there when you fell out of love. And it’s here now, watching us wade through the murky waters of post-relationship bullshit. It was here before you came along, all the while you were here and it will be around long after you’re gone.

I raise my right eyebrow and smirk back, “Thanks.”

He lowers his eyes to my hands, “Anytime.” Suddenly I know we aren’t talking about the bracelet anymore.

“Here,” he takes it from me again and slips it around my wrist to help me tie it back on. He knows I can’t do it by myself.

The way he touches me, it’s innocent and erotic all at once. I want to push him away and clutch him to me at the same time…just something to make this moment pass. It’s the kind of moment that fucks you up for a long while. I’ll be thinking about the brush of his fingertips on the underside of my wrist and the way his eyes reveal everything and nothing to me at the same time for a long time. And every time I remember this moment, each time it comes flooding back when I least expect it – taking a piss, shaking hands with a client, fucking a trick – I’ll be pissed. Fucker.

He pulls his hand away after leaving it on my arm for a moment too long and then he just stares. His eyes used to tell me so fucking much, but then he started taking a nod from me. That’s shitty thing number 843 I shouldn’t have taught Justin, how to wear a blank stare at even the most intimate of moments. It’s a blessing and curse to wear your emotions on your sleeve, but he did it so well…so well. And I don’t see that honesty in him anymore, I just see me. And it's fucking scary.

 

Justin

When I left that cunt Claire’s house, I knew exactly where I was headed. It wasn’t like I wouldn’t see him at the diner, or Deb’s, or Mel and Lindsay’s on some random night when they asked me to sit for Gus and he happens to show up (because all of that will happen sooner or later.) But still…something in me knows he would want the bracelet back now. Brian isn’t the type of guy who needs or wants a security blanket. But if anything in his life comes close to even remotely resembling one, it’s this bracelet. And it would be nice to see him alone for a minute.

When I start to climb the stairs to the loft I remember that I don’t live here any more...that anything could be going on behind that steel door. I’ve only been back a couple of times since I moved out, once to get my stuff and once to thank him for paying my tuition. Both trips were short, painful, and left my head reeling for a lot longer than I care to admit. Both times I couldn’t touch Ethan for hours afterwards. I don’t even want to think about what that all means.

When I knock loudly on the door I find myself holding my breath. It’s ridiculous the way I hope and pray he’ll be alone and not fucking his brains out. He’s free to do as he pleases, just like I am. That was the entire point. Neither of us needed to suffocate for another second, so I set us both free. Or maybe he did?

When he pulls the door open, wearing a white tank and jeans that fit like a glove, I feel my heart start to race. I will it to stop, I don’t want it to prove what I keep trying to deny. But the more I think about it, the faster it beats. I take a step back, letting him know I have no intention of entering the loft. Dangerous things happen in there, very dangerous things. He looks at me knowingly, like he’s not even surprised to see me.

He steps out into the hall just a few feet from me and leans back on the door. Sexy fucker. I pull the bracelet out of my vest pocket and dangle it between my fingers, thinking about how often I ran these same fingers across these same shells when we were two very different people. He snatches the bracelet from me and smirks. “Thanks.” He says it lightly, but it holds a lot of weight.


	2. Playing the Game

“Anytime,” I say, not talking about the bracelet at all, but rather about saving his ass from insane situations. Which, truth be told, I secretly love doing. After all is said and done I know Brian has done more for me than I will ever be able to do for him. So it’s shit like this, and the Kip situation that make me feel like the scales are a little more balanced. They make me feel like maybe he needs me in his life a little too. Lord knows I still need him. And not just for the money…

“Here,” I take the bracelet back from him and run my hands over his wrist, showing him that I want to tie it on. I know he can’t put it on by himself. I had to do it a few times when we were together.

I turn his wrist and slide my hands over it as I affix the bracelet. He clears his throat and I look up just in time to watch him as he lowers his eyelids and rolls his lips into his mouth. It’s enough for me to know he’s thinking about sex. Sex with me. It’s enough for me to know I better get the fuck out of here.

I finish tying the black leather cord as he leans in closer to me. I pray to someone that I can keep my resolve. If he gets three inches closer, I’ll have to kiss him. I’ll have to.

Then he says the magic words, “Shouldn’t you be getting back to your boyfriend?”

The question throws me, and after a quick intake of air I regroup and answer, “Yeah.” Then I walk away. It’s all I can do. If I stayed one second longer, this would all be over. All the promises I made to myself about being done with Brian would be broken. I would prove that the bastard truly is irresistible.

 

Brian

Fuck. I had to say something. I had to break the spell. The air was getting so thick with sex I could taste it. He was running his hands over my wrist and licking his lips. I leaned in close and let my eyelids flutter as my pulse started to race. I wonder if he felt it?

So about two seconds before I threw him to the floor and fucked the shit out of him I reminded us both that this isn’t who we are anymore. I reminded us that he has a boyfriend. I’m sure Ian’s wondering where the fuck he is right this second. The thought makes my dick go soft. Thank God.

He turns and heads for the stairs, never looking back. I turn and walk into the loft, and don’t look back until I know he’s long gone.

I leave the loft door open for hours as I sit on the couch and chain smoke. Looking everywhere but back at the open door and thinking about everything besides why I left it open.

 

Justin

All the way home I think about the way he looked in that tight tank, the way he leaned in when I touched his wrist, the way he cleared his throat, the way he licked his lips. I don’t know what’s worse, knowing he still gets to me or that I still get to him. It makes me think about Ethan and how different our relationship is. It’s good, it’s loving, but it’s not…that. It’s nothing like the “I need to rip your clothes off when we’re in the same building” feeling that I had with HIM. I guess adult relationships aren’t like that. Maybe caring for the other person and being comfortable and happy are more important. Right?

When I get home Ethan is practicing, the Heifetz competition is coming up soon. We have to travel for the finals. I was so sure Ethan would win that I decided to buy a plane ticket for myself and go with him. I know he wants me there, needs me there, so when he asked me to join him I happily agreed. Plus, getting out of town for a couple of days will be good for me. Very good for me.

***********************************

When Ethan and I get to the hotel we're both tired as hell. I think anticipating this little trip and the competition has us both wound up pretty tight right now. I ask him if he wants dinner and he shakes his head, flopping down in the middle of the king size bed. I take off most of my clothes and run my hands along the wonderfully soft designer sheets. The room PIFA booked for him is really nice. I’m surprised.

I slide down next to him and kiss his jaw. He smiles slightly, but doesn’t open his eyes or move to reciprocate the foreplay. I climb on top of him and start to open his jacket and shirt. His hands come up and seize mine, “I need to rest,” he whispers.

I roll off of him and head for the bathroom. While I want to be pissed off, I know I can’t be. Tomorrow is the most important day of his life and I should be a good boyfriend...give him a nice massage to help him relax, help him sleep. But I'm fucking horny as hell.

I turn the shower on, letting the water get so hot that the jet spray practically scalds me. As my soapy hands slide down to my semi-erect dick, my mind wanders to the same place it always goes when I’m in the shower. It focuses on a different shower in a different city where I’m with a different man. One who never needs rest, one who would let me wake him up in the middle of the night to fuck or kiss or talk. One who never denied me anything, except his love.

Brian

I walk into the diner to get a cup of coffee and of course the entire fucking world is there. Mel and Linds, the proud parents to be, sit at the counter bantering with Deb. Justin’s busing a table in the back, I check out his ass before he has time to turn around and catch me staring. He still has the best fucking ass on Liberty Avenue – both literally and figuratively.


	3. Playing the Game

I haven’t seen him since he returned my bracelet last week. I heard through the grapevine that he went somewhere with Ethan for some competition, but that Ethan lost. I won’t deny that I was perversely happy about that. It’s good to know the little fiddler isn’t perfect after all. Of course, at the same time, if he’d won maybe he’d be traveling the world spreading the joy of violin music to the masses and out of my fucking hair. But, I really don’t care. I mean, his existence doesn’t affect me any way.

Since I have an audience, I announce that I’ve taken on the evil police chief, soon to be politician, as a client. I knew they’d all balk and brand me an asshole, just like they always do. I’ll let them, knowing full well they still don’t understand me at all. Why people don’t get “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” theory, I’ll never know. Life is a game, you have to know how to play it.

Deb starts babbling about integrity and then Sunshine starts talking about Ethan and some contract he won’t sign because he’d have to play straight. I look at the admiration in Justin’s eyes, how pleased he is with his martyr of a boyfriend and I have to say something. I just have to.

“There’s nothing noble about being poor,” I train my eyes on Justin’s for the first time since I walked through the door so he understands that I’m being completely serious. He huffs at me like I know nothing. I want to scream, “Maybe if you’d back off and let your music man earn a buck, he could pay your way and get you out of my life!” But, I don’t…I won’t…I can't. Because that isn’t how I honestly feel. It’s how I feel right now, sure. But overall, I like paying for Justin’s education. It keeps us connected in the least painful way possible. It lets me stay in his life in a marginal way. It makes it okay for me to know what he’s up to and how he’s doing. If we didn’t have a shared vested interested in his success as an artist, we’d have nothing.

 

Justin

Brian makes some dumb-ass remarks about what an idiot Ethan is for passing up the offer the talent agent made and I want to jump the counter and kick him in the balls. He doesn’t know shit about being an artist. He doesn’t know shit about having a true and real passion for something. He doesn’t understand how Ethan’s worked his whole life to be as good as he is. He doesn’t understand that not everyone is willing to sell their soul for a buck. I say it’s a lot nobler to be poor than to be a sell-out asshole like him. Fuck he looks hot in that suit.

Brian

I won’t lie and say it’s a coincidence that Mikey and I just happen to be walking through the park where Ethan usually plays for pennies. I won’t lie and say I have no interest in running into him. But I will tell you that I wasn’t sure until this very moment that I would actually go and talk to him.

When I approach him, twenty-dollar bill in hand, he immediately stops playing, starts packing up and refuses my generous tip. He knows by now that my money isn’t offered without strings attached, well not to him anyway. There are others who do get away with that, but not my friend the fiddler. Hell, I don’t even like violin music.

I advise him, as a business man, to sign the damn contract. I tell him that to win the game you have to know how to play it. Then I remind him that there's nothing noble about being poor, because there isn’t. Then I walk away. His face changed as I was talking to him. He went from totally defensive to totally defeated. I think my words sank in, at least I hope they did. The only time he threw me was when he suggested I wanted him to be a success just because I wanted Justin back. What he doesn’t know, or doesn’t understand, is that I was the one who checked out of that relationship early, not Justin. So why would I want him back when I sent him packing? That’s ridiculous.

 

Justin

When I get home from my shift at the diner, I open the apartment door to a hundred candles and Ethan pouring two glasses of wine (good stuff too.) I’m confused but excited at the same time. See, this is what it’s all about, being with someone who welcomes you home on an average Tuesday with something like this, someone who spends an entire day’s earnings on a bottle of good wine just to celebrate your relationship. This is what my life was missing. This is why I left Brian.

Wait, did he just say he wants to sign the contract? I stop sipping the sweet wine and stare at him. He didn’t just say that. A few days ago, before he made me promises about togetherness and how important we are, I would have been open to this. I would have been understanding. Hell, I'd have even encouraged him to sign the damned thing. But now…after all he’s said about integrity and honesty and living your life out in the open, how can I look at him and not be pissed off?

I get up and cross the room to the window after he says, “There’s nothing noble about being poor.” The words sting in my ears. I know exactly where he heard them. I don’t know how or when Brian could've gotten to him, but those words don’t belong to Ethan…they belong to my ex-bastard. Fucker.

Ethan starts rambling about secret rendezvous and how we’ll make this in-the-closet love work. And though I’m not buying a word of it I hug him and press my lips to his neck. It’s all I can think to do. This is the man I chose. This is the one I’m going to stick by.

 

Brian

Sometimes you hit the back room and all you find is a couple of guys getting head and a couple of guys getting fucked (none of whom you’d consider for even a second). Sometimes, my right hand is the best looking trick of the lot. But not tonight, tonight is a good night. Five minutes after walking down into the darkness I see three guys I’d let suck me off. One looks vaguely familiar so I pass him up. When the second one drops to his knees and presses my ass to the wall, I gladly let him go to work.

The great thing about being a very big fish in a very small pond is that I don’t ever have to work for it. I’ll admit I’m not always the best looking guy in here, though often I am. It’s just that I’m always the cockiest motherfucker for miles. The higher you hold your head the more they want to wait in line to suck you off. It’s all about knowing how to play the game.


	4. Playing the Game

Back here in the land of very little clothing and a whole lot of come, I’m a veritable god among men, and I like it that way. It works for me, always has and always will. Justin was a blip on the radar screen, an experiment gone wrong. I was just testing the waters to see what a different life would be like. What I found out is that a guy like me doesn’t operate too well in breeder-land where feelings matter and roses rule. I belong down here, in the dark corners of back rooms with pretty little boys begging to get me off.

So when Justin walks up and tells my decent dick-sucker to fuck off, I know my night is ruined. Sometimes you feel the rain on your face before the storm actually hits.

 

Justin

Of course he’s got his cock half way down some jerk-off's throat when I find him sweaty and high in the back room. It’s an image of him that I’ve seen a hundred different times. It’s amazing how it gets me in the gut, even now, in just the same way. He can still hurt me and I hate that.

I tell the kid to ‘fuck off’ and stand firm right in front of Brian as I rip him a new asshole for advising Ethan on how to live his life. If there's one fucking person on the planet I do not want giving my boyfriend advice, it’s my psychotic ex. Fuck, I wish he’d put his dick away.

With hurt in my eyes that I can’t seem to hide despite my best efforts, I ask him, “What about me?” That's what I came here to find out. When he was telling Ethan that being poor isn’t noble and was suggesting that he should sign the contract and cut me out of his life, what exactly did he think would happen to me? Did I matter? Do I matter? Does he give a shit about what I want? Is he doing this to hurt me? The fucker better answer me.

”What about you?” Classic. Fucking classic Brian Kinney answer. He has this look on his face that I can’t quite read. I don’t know if it’s true disinterest or the mask he wears when he wants me to think he’s disinterested.

All of these random interludes in the last few weeks have left me so confused and fucked up I can barely breathe. One second he’s kind and almost understanding, with this shimmer in his eye like he knows we did the right thing. The next second he’s harsh and cruel, pushing me off the edge of Cliff Kinney all over again.

I furrow my brow and try not to let a single ounce of moisture form in my eyes. The way he’s looking at me would've made me cry a year ago, hell maybe even a month ago, but not now. I’m done crying over this fucker.

And then he pushes the needle too far. “Do you expect him to sacrifice his career for a piece of blond boy ass?” He accentuates the last three words, insinuating that's all I was to him as well. The words push against my heart and leave me at a loss for words. Unfortunately, that gives him an open window to piss more insults through.

“Is that your idea of true love, Sunshine?” My mouth hangs agape and my eyes search his face for something…some truth. A thing I’ll never find in Brian’s eyes. Sure, he doesn’t lie to anyone, but he rarely tells himself the truth. I don’t know which is worse.

He turns from me and finds his cock-sucking friend again, wordlessly announcing that this conversation is over. And it’s just as well. One more second under his disengaged gaze and I might go crazy. Might do and say things I’ll regret tomorrow. Then again, maybe I’ll finally say all that I never did. Maybe that’s what we need is one final knockdown, drag-out battle to end this once and for all. No loose ends, no open windows…just closure.

 

Brian

Justin exits the back room as quickly as he entered, but things will never be the same. I’m kind of fucked up, but I think I just implied that Ethan should ditch his ass and run off to be famous. That is, of course, what I think he should do. But, I guess maybe the delivery of my opinion was a little harsh. Ahhhhh, tucking my dick into the snug mouth of a stranger makes this a little more bearable.

I'd think that after two years with me, Justin would've taken off his fucking rose-colored glasses. If he doesn’t see by now that things are never all chocolate chip cookies and picket fences then he never will. All I’m trying to show him is that the only person you can count on is yourself. The only person you can rely on, trust, believe in…is you. I need him to get that. I need him to internalize and understand it. If he doesn’t, then what was all this for?

He has to learn to play the game. Otherwise he’s never going to fucking win.


End file.
